


Made of Demons

by Plasmeic_Aether



Series: My Demons [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Multiple deaths mentioned, Sans and the judge are separate beings, Sanster is past, Wonder why ;), headcanons, tags will be added as time goes on, trust me it's interesting, undertale headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-23 21:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20346976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plasmeic_Aether/pseuds/Plasmeic_Aether
Summary: Sans is used to having to see others' sins.He never thought he'd have to stomach his own.





	1. The Judge.

It was late at night when Sans was called in for a Judgement.

Normally, Sans is given a few days’ notice before he has to Judge someone - it’s standard procedure, and it lets the information get to the recipient as well. It promises that whatever conclusion they come to, it’s the right one, because The Judge will be there.

This time is different. This time is very, very different.

Sans can’t remember a time he’s looked in the mirror and seen his own sins. He’s never made any - he’s got no LV, no blood or dust on his hands. As much as he’d like to believe it’s because he is a genuinely good monster, he knows at the end of the day it’s all because of what he is that he has yet to kill someone. Seems that isn’t necessarily consistent.

Standing before Sans was himself. A very angry, red version of himself. Cuffed with magic-resistant chains, unable to properly stand, he seemed to be in an entirely bad mood. One that even with the slightest glance, and without the Judge even riding him, he could tell was not an innocent monster. Scars littered his bones, and his one cracked eye must have come from something nearly deadly. This guy meant business - and he meant business in a way that Sans recognized from one of the human’s runs. 

There was deadly intent in those eyes, and all of it was for those holding his double in that room. He could see it along with the LV this version of himself had stacked - the version of himself who’d killed at least 20 people to have LV so high. But that didn’t bother him the most.

The thing that really got him was that a version of his brother had killed over 40 people, and looked to have just as much murderous intent as this red Sans did. He’d never seen that expression on Papyrus before - he’d never had to. Papyrus was soft, caring, and made sure to be careful in every fight he had just to make sure the other party survived. He was forgiving and, honestly, one of the few monsters Sans could really find any comfort in these days.

This version of his brother did none of the same for him. Lucky for him, as he looked over the two he was required to Judge, he felt the threads taking control over his limbs again. The ones that The Judge took hold of whenever it was summoned or required. It let Sans take the back seat - so he didn’t have to deal with whatever was going to happen next.

He let himself get lost in the darkness of his thoughts. Allowed his senses to be overridden by The Judge themself, to let them have absolute control while the Judgement happened. He didn’t want to be there for it - he didn’t want to have to look at himself in the mirror later and see the other him’s sins written all over his face. So he didn’t look. He didn’t try to, even if the Judge left that option open for him. It always did.

This time, he let himself be taken by that comfortable darkness.

*****

When Sans felt himself come to, it was sooner than he expected. (Sooner than he wanted)

He was still in the Judgement Hall. He was dizzy - next to one of the pillars that lined the hall. He leant against it, head spinning somewhat. No memories of the Judgement fizzled to the surface, no thoughts of what he’d done. 

No memory of what this version of himself had done to deserve a Judgement.

That was all fine and dandy, of course. He didn’t want nightmares about himself possibly doing some really horrible things. The thing that got him, however, was the fact that so little time had passed that these versions of him and his brother were still there. Still chained and cuffed, still standing. But they looked like they’d seen a ghost - like they’d been launched through a movie sequence of every horrible, horrendous thing that has ever happened to them.

Yeah, the Judge’ll do that to ya.

Sans began to turn to leave, not intent on sticking around, when the King’s voice broke the intense silence brought on only after tears and emotions had been displayed.

“Sans, please wait a moment. I have a request for you.”

Stars, no. Sans has a feeling he knows what Asgore’s going to ask of him, and he has a feeling that nobody is going to like it.

“Yeah, sup, fluffybuns?”

Sans turned to look at Asgore, drained from the energy The Judge had spent. Normally, he’s pretty high on the magic supply - however, whenever The Judge comes out, it takes a lot of effort for them to actually force someone to relive their experiences. To see what they’ve done wrong, and atone for their sins. So honestly, he was feeling pretty damn tuckered out.

“I am sure you’re aware these two are… not from this world. They are not you.”

He had to pause - with the strings still loosely around The Judge’s fingers, he could see the hesitation and guilt flash across Asgore’s face when he decided to actually ask.

“But because they seem to be… versions, at least, as you’d initially described them - would you please be willing to help in their rehabilitation and assist in them becoming used to the surface?”

Even if Sans knew it was coming, it doesn’t mean he has to like or accept it. He let out a sigh - but really, he was too tired to argue with Asgore right now. Part of him had a feeling that’s why the King was asking him to do it right after a Judgement.

The worst part was the Judge wouldn’t like it. That’s why Asgore asked them to leave and let him return to the reigns - so he was the one making the decision, not the Judge. As nice a guy as Asgore is, he can be manipulative. Sans has seen it in him. It comes with having gained LV from killing six kids.

He can also see Asgore’s regret for having ever done something like that, too.

“You’re really pullin’ my leg here, Asgore.” He says, and he hopes the meaning of his words gets to the King. From the way he winces, it does.

“But I’ll help. I gotta tell Paps about it, but after that…”  
  
He sighs. He really doesn’t know what he’s going to do after telling Papyrus - he’s going to have to make an entire plan that revolves around getting these two settled into the surface. He may have to ask the Judge a favor later - not a smart idea directly after a Judgement, as Sans knows better than anyone they can get an attitude - but later, once things have settled down and the Judge is leaving Sans to do as he does without interfering.   
  
At least Papyrus would say yes without hesitation. He tended to be like that - he was very much for Asgore’s rehabilitation plan. Papyrus hated killing - hated the idea of harming someone with the intent of never wanting them to return again. Sure, Paps fought - and damn was he good at it - but Papyrus would never raise a sword against an opponent who could not defend themselves. Much less would he kill someone.

A memory begins to surface. Sans shoves it down. Not now.

“Thank you, Sans.” Asgore said, relief in his voice and an apology in his eyes. Sans doesn’t meet his gaze.  
“I appreciate it, I really do. Until they have been found ready to live amongst the public, they will have a home here near the Hall.”

Sans nodded, and glanced up at Asgore. Even the King looked tired - it must have been hard, hearing Sans’ initial explanation about Quantum Theory and everything relating to the multiple universe theory. Hard to accept that these two, as much as they look like Sans and Papyrus, aren’t them. He didn’t blame Asgore - he hadn’t wanted to believe it either. It was a crazy idea - the idea that there are multiple versions of himself, his brother, everyone - all of them have more than one life. It really makes you feel small.

He thinks of a knife carving through his sternum. He doesn't realize He'd moved a hand to his chest until he hears Asgore's voice bringing him back to the present.

“Would you like me to take you home, Sans?”

That got an easy grin from the skeleton, and he gave a small shrug.

“Nah, that’s alright. I know a shortcut.”


	2. The Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans is ready to meet this other version of himself.  
Red is just a pain in the ass.

Sans slept harder than he had in weeks, once he’d gotten home from the Judgement of his and his brothers’ alternates. It had been exhausting for the Judge, too, it seemed - he didn’t even feel its presence stir when he awoke to Papyrus nudging him awake the next morning, declaring that he’d slept plenty since last night and that he needed to be up and moving.

“Yeah, yeah, m’gettin up, Paps.” Sans says tiredly, sluggish and slow-moving as he sat up in his bed. Papyrus let out a huff at his brother.

“Good! You’d better be up and downstairs in the next five minutes, or I will come up here and carry you down myself!”

Sans grinned, chuckling at his brother’s declaration. He waved Papyrus off, showing him with oh so much effort that he was, indeed, intending on coming downstairs.

Papyrus knew about the Judge - he knew Sans would want to just sleep it off and not wake up to the feeling of being half there like he normally did. Papyrus also knew that Sans doing so often led to him having nightmares, vomiting up magical waste late into the night. So he was very pleased when Sans decided he’d follow his taller brother down the stairs and into the dining room.

“This is unlike you, Sans - is there something wrong?” Questions Papyrus, turning around quickly enough that Sans nearly runs into him. He looked up at his brother, expression dazed as he takes in Papyrus’ innocent face. 

So different from the face he’d been forced to Judge last night.

Banishing the thought from his mind, he decides he would answer Papyrus’ question, rubbing at his eyelights. “No I’m fine, Paps, just uh. You remember those - those alternates that ended up here in our universe? The ones that looked like edgy you and me?”

“Of course I remember them!” Papyrus responds, head tilting somewhat to the side. “Is something wrong? Were they..?”

“Yeah.” Sans responds, quickly enough for it to sound sharp. Papyrus winces, and Sans can’t help but feel bad - but this is how it always was. He doesn’t like talking about the Judgements with anyone, because they’re usually pretty hard on him. The ones he did actually snoop un, when he wanted to know how the Judge really reads a person, he’s seen how hollow the person’s eyes get. The horror and sadness and regret and rage that all comes molding together all at once, a storm twisting in their gaze as The Judge reminds them of every morally wrong thing they’ve ever done. It’s not a pretty sight, and Sans hates having to be the one to set that upon people.

At least it wasn’t Papyrus.

“And, uh. Asgore wanted to know if we could watch over ‘em. Help em get accustomed to the Surface and peace, yknow?” 

Papyrus seemed to consider him for a moment. He was glad he couldn’t completely read him - he didn’t like being able to completely read everything about a person’s thoughts and expressions. He could always tell what others were thinking when the Judge was holding the reigns, or handing them off. It wasn’t something he could turn off with them around.

“Well of course, brother - I would love to assist! However I will not be around as often as you may, with the fact I start working tomorrow!”

Sans blinked, and then smacked his forehead. How could he have forgotten? Papyrus had gotten a job at a pasta place about 10 minutes away - a dream come true for his brother. He’d literally been talking about it for weeks beforehand - how could he have gotten so caught up in his thoughts and the Judgement? He needed to be more careful.

“Fuck, I forgot. Sorry, Paps-”

“Do not use that kind of language!”

“-make sure to focus on your pasta and not get yourself in a twist about these strangers.”

The moment of silence that passed between the two was long. Sans holding back a laugh, and Papyrus looking ready to chuck his brother into the abyss. Sans had never felt more proud of a pun in his life. 

Which wasn’t true. He’s very proud of all of his puns. Every single one he makes. They’re all his children, he supports all of them.

“Well with that out of the way, then, you should go speak to these clones! I’m sure they’d enjoy getting to know who they’ll be interacting with for the next few months! Maybe longer!” Papyrus finally exclaims, turning away from Sans to go back to the kitchen - where there was diced onions and pepper being put into an omelet along with copious amounts of cheese and bacon.

Sans’ mouth watered.

“Yeah I promise, Bro. I’ll go talk to em after, uh, breakfast.”

Papyrus glanced over his shoulder at Sans, and then gave him a bright smile.

“Of course sans. Food comes first! Then to assist those in need!”

***

The rooms they’d been given were much cozier than any of the dungeons in their universe.

Of course they were - the King here hadn’t immediately ordered them to execution the moment they stepped in. Not only that, he’d captured them and had a copy of himself - Sans - come in and do something he’d never seen before.

The Judgement was harsh on him - every person he killed, every item he’d stolen, he’d been forced to relive those moments all over again. The darkness of the alley as he gained his first LV, when Paps - his paps - was just a babybones. Stabbing someone in the back of the head at Grillby’s for getting him in a bad mood. The monsters he’d been set to torture for stealing food from the capitol.

All of it was horrible, and he wanted to know what kind of sick bastard this world’s Sans was to have willingly put him and his brother through that.

Speaking of, he looks over at his younger brother. He was still asleep - resting on the surprisingly-comfortable mattress lain out in their holding cell. He’d been really, really fucked up after the Judgement - trembling and shaking. Sans could see that he’d been regretting every drop of blood he’d ever had to shed.

He always was the softer of the two of them.

Sans looks up when he hears the sound of footsteps echoing through the corridor. They’re soft but heavy - like someone’s lugging themself over to their holding cell. Not that Sans gives a shit - whoever makes their way over here isn’t going to get much out of them. They’d already been set for rehabilitation - with that clone of him, no less. Couldn’t get much worse than that.

As the person approached, Sans saw a very different side of his Clone than he saw yesterday. What had all been cold consideration, disgust with what he and his brother had done, and maybe a hint of amusement at their terror was traded in for someone who just looked… tired.

Sans looked him up and down - worn out hoodie, gym shorts, slippers. Just another version of him - without all that sickening intent from before. What exactly was that? How was that just… gone from his gaze, replaced with hesitance.

Sans didn’t buy it. He didn’t get it.

There’s no way this is the same guy as yesterday.

“Hey buddy.” The clone finally speaks, looking somewhat awkward as he does so. Sans doesn’t respond, narrowing his sockets at the softer version of himself.

“So I thought I’d pop on in and say hey. Uh - I know ya heard yesterday, but i’m the one you’re gonna be hangin’ around for the next while.”

Yeah well no shit. He wasn’t exactly pleased with that development, and with a look at this clone, he could see he was no happier. At least the feeling was mutual.

“The name’s Sans. Sans the skeleton.”

He held his hand through the bars, as if there wasn’t a magic barrier keeping the two beyond it in. He’d tried doing the same earlier with no luck - his hand just stopped against the invisible magic barrier. That… was strange.

“...Sans.” He responds, taking this clone’s hand.

And then there’s the sound of something popping, and a very very loud silence settled between the two of them.

The clone is the first to pull his hand back, and look at his palm. Seemed that an electric buzzer and a whoopee cushion really didn’t mix and created a bit of a bang. Ah well - doesn’t matter to him.

The clone looked at him inquisitively for a moment, seeming impressed, amused, and also intimidated. If this guy was intimidated by a buzzer on his hand, he had to wonder what exactly kind of universe this fucking place was.

“...Brother, what in the nine hells was that noise?”

Ah fuck, and they’d woken up Papyrus with it too. He is immediately turning around toward the taller of the two of them, grin taking up his facial features.

“Oh don’t worry ‘bout it, Boss. The clone just popped on in to say hi.” He responded, and immediately gets a grimace. He hears the small laugh from behind him, however. At least his sense of humor was a universal constant.

“I can’t express just with words how much distaste I have for you right now. What does he want?”

Sans shrugs. “He’s gonna be babysittin’ us until we’re able to live in this universe, according to the King.”

That makes Papyrus look up at the clone, who’d been standing quietly and watching their interaction with silent confusion and curiosity. Seemed to Sans that his relationship with his brother was different here - especially if that Papyrus wasn’t around watching over his sans’ back like a goddamn hawk. Lucky bastard.

“Yeah, heh. M’sans. I’d shake your hand, but I think I’ve been shocked enough today.” the clone says, and Papyrus just groans loudly.

“And I am the Great and Terrible Papyrus. It is… Nice to meet you, I suppose.”

The clone shrugs, that easy grin still on his face. However, that moment seemed to remind him, and he speaks again.

“We’re gonna need to get you guys some, ah, nicknames. Havin’ two Sanses and two Paps is gonna get confusing for all of us.”

That gets a sniff out of Sans, who starts picking at the fluff on his hood. “Why should we get the nicknames? Why not jus’ take on a nickname yourself?”

The clone thinks he’s subtle, but Sans can see him roll his eyes. “Because you two are from a different ‘verse here. Thus, you get the nicknames.”

He did sort of have a point there. Ah well - he’d think about it.

“Weren’t you gonna culture us about this universe or somethin’? Cause if not, I don’t wanna just stand here hall day.”

The clone grinned, and held up a key. That gets both Sans and Paps to perk up.

“Nah, I got ya covered. Come on, let’s go get some grub. My treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that ends the first part of Made of Demons! I'm gonna be trying to write when I have inspiration for this story.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm thinking of making this into a multichapter fic - mostly because writing it is actually a lot of fun, and helps me to clear my mind. I hope you all enjoy the first installment!


End file.
